


One Good Move

by 852_Prospect_Archivist



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: Episode Related: Sentinel Too, Episode Related: The Debt, Episode Related: The Sentinel: by Blair Sandburg, First Times, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-10
Updated: 2013-05-10
Packaged: 2017-12-11 00:06:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,311
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/791743
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/852_Prospect_Archivist/pseuds/852_Prospect_Archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Blair thinks he has to move out of the loft.</p>
            </blockquote>





	One Good Move

**Author's Note:**

> For Elizabeth, beta goddess, who keeps pulling me out of the quicksand.

## One Good Move

by m butterfly

Author's webpage: <http://Skinner.Mulder.com/walfox>

Author's disclaimer: I don't own these characters, which is a damned shame since the people who do own them aren't doing anything with them anymore.

* * *

One Good Move  
by m. butterfly 

"So," Blair said after deciding to accept Simon's offer and become a real, full-time cop. "I guess I should start looking for a place of my own, huh?" 

Jim swallowed the mouthful of water and Sandburg-approved pain killers, then looked his future partner--future _official_ partner--in the eye. "Why?" 

"I won't be--I mean, I'm not a poverty-stricken academic anymore," Blair said, meeting Jim's gaze head-on. "I'll even get paid to attend the academy." 

"Yeah, but you still have--what? Thirty years' worth of student loans to pay back?" He watched Blair roll his eyes, then stopped him from making a snappy comeback by placing a finger against his lips. "Look, Chief. If you move out now, the only thing you'll be able to afford is bound to be worse than the incredible exploding warehouse. So, unless it's just dawned on you that I'm unbearable to live with, cool your jets and make yourself at home here a little while longer. At least until you get your debts under control. Okay?" 

Blair's face broke out into a grin, and Jim withdrew his hand. "If you can put up with me, I can definitely put up with you, man." 

Jim grunted, picked up the paper, and buried his nose in the sports section. Blair would've bet a year's salary that the guy was smiling, though. 

Still grinning, he tossed the classifieds into the recycling box, and pushed all thoughts of moving to the back of his mind. 

* * *

"Well," said Blair after he'd been a badge-wearing, gun-toting, paycheque-earning detective for six months. "Maybe I should start thinking about finding an apartment, huh?" 

Jim put down his fork and sat back, arms folded across his chest. "Why?" 

"I'm actually finding the loan payments easy to handle. And I've got enough money saved up to take care of the first and last months' rent." 

"That's great, Chief." Jim cleared his throat. "But there's your car, remember? That piece of--" 

"Watch it, Ellison." 

"Your beloved vehicle needs a new transmission, the muffler's going, the tires have to be replaced before the first snowfall...At least wait until spring. Besides, moving in the winter's a pain in the ass." 

"You sure?" 

"You kidding?" He reached over and tapped the side of Blair's head. "All that snow and ice?" 

"Jim--" 

"Yes. I'm sure." Jim went back to his scrambled eggs. "Haven't strangled you yet, have I?" 

"Came pretty close with that headlock yesterday," Blair said evenly, then threw back his head and howled at the expression on Jim's face. 

And pushed all thoughts of leaving the loft to the back of his mind. 

* * *

"Jim," Blair said when spring had finally come to Cascade. "Winter's over." 

"I knew there was a good reason Simon made you a detective." 

"You know what I mean." Something fluttered in his stomach, and he instantly regretted that second helping of spaghetti and meatballs he'd had that night. "I think it's time." 

Jim pressed the mute button on the remote control and turned away from the NBA playoff game they'd been watching. "I thought you liked living here." 

Blair's hands flew up from his lap and began their little dance. "I do, Jim. You know I do."   
"Then why? Why are you so gung-ho to leave?" 

"I'm not!" Was he whining? Shit. "I love it here. It's the best place I've ever lived. But I--I have to go." 

"What the hell are you talking about? That's bullshit. You don't have to go anywhere." 

"Yes I do!" he said tightly, the effort not to shout (and hurt Jim's ears) almost too much for him. "As much as I might want to stay, I can't. Not anymore." 

"Who says?" 

"Jim. Think about it. A couple of single guys--cops, and partners at that!--living together for four years. We could get away with it before, when I didn't have any money or a steady job. But now? Forget it! If *I've* heard the rumours and the jokes and the nasty comments, don't even try to tell me that _you_ haven't." 

"And that's the reason you think you should move out?" 

"Isn't that reason enough?" 

"No, damnit!" Jim shook his head vehemently and grabbed Blair's arm. "Let me ask you something, Darwin. Would you leave if we really were, uh, together? A couple?" 

"I--well, no, I guess not, but--" 

"Then stay, if that's what you want." 

"But we're not together, Jim! We're not a couple! And if I keep living here, that's what everyone's gonna think." 

The pulsing vein at Jim's left temple was getting more noticeable. "Since when did you care when people thought?" 

"Since when *didn't* you?" 

Jim tore his eyes away from Blair's, and the sound of squeaking rubber soles filled the room as he turned back to the game. "Have you started looking yet?" he finally asked. 

Blair inspected the fraying hem of his favourite flannel shirt. "I've made appointments to see a few places this weekend." 

"Uh-huh." 

"I was wondering--you know, if you're not doing anything, that is--if you'd come with me." 

Jim shrugged. "I'm not going to intimidate anyone into giving you a break on the rent. Well, not intentionally, anyway." 

"Hadn't thought of that," Blair mused, somewhat heartened by Jim's attempt at levity. At normalcy. "What I was thinking was that you'd make sure I don't move in next to a drug lab this time." 

"You're no fun anymore, Chief." 

"Yeah, that's what they tell me. So you'll come?" 

"Yeah. I'll come. Jim Ellison, amateur house inspector, at your service." 

* * *

"So, man. What do you think?" Blair asked after the super stepped out into the hallway to answer his cell phone. 

Standing in the centre of the living room, Jim took a deep breath, then cocked his head and squinted slightly. Blair got closer and placed his palm against the bigger man's back. Just in case. 

"Roaches," Jim said after a few seconds. "Lots and lots of roaches." 

* * *

"Mice." 

* * *

"Roaches _and_ mice." 

* * *

"Bad plumbing." 

* * *

"Termites." 

* * *

"Walls are too thin." 

* * *

"The roof leaks." 

* * *

"Rats." 

* * *

"Faulty wiring." 

* * *

"So?" Blair asked three weeks later, tapping his foot on the gleaming hardwood floor. "What's wrong with _this_ place?" 

Place number 23, to be exact. 

Jim continued to make his rounds with Blair trailing behind him, trying vainly to hear what Jim heard, to see what Jim saw, to smell what Jim smelled. 

They ended the inspection where they'd started--the kitchen--where Jim took one more look behind the fridge before giving his full attention to Blair. 

"Nothing." 

Blair swallowed. Fuck. "Nothing? Really?" 

"Really. It's perfect. The location, the price, the facilities--everything. Do you like it?" 

"Yeah. Yeah, I like it. It's great. What's not to like?" 

"I know. So I think--I think you should take it." 

"Well?" The woman who'd been showing them the apartment returned, clipboard swinging at her side. She'd given them long enough to look around on their own. 

"I'll let you know. Thanks for your time. Come on, Jim." 

"Okay," the woman called after them, "but I wouldn't wait too long if I were you. Another couple's coming tomorrow to see it." 

Blair winced at the implication, but Jim must have chosen to ignore it because he just kept walking, eyes ahead. 

The ride home was uncharacteristically quiet. Jim didn't even turn on the radio to try to mask the uncomfortable silence. But, by the way his jaw was twitching, Blair knew he'd be hearing from Jim--a major earful--once they were safely inside the loft. 

Jim waited until they were seated at opposite ends of the couch, bottles of beer in hand, before he proved Blair right. "You're going to lose that apartment, Chief." 

"So?" Blair picked at the label of his micro brew. 

"'So?' For the last fucking month, I've spent nearly every spare minute of my time helping you find the perfect place--which we just did--and you don't care if you lose it?" 

"I'm sorry, man." He kept his head down, terrified he might start bawling or do something equally stupid if he so much as even looked at Jim. 

"Jesus, Sandburg! I just don't get you. You say you like the place, I give it the Sentinel seal of approval--what's going on?" He shifted a little closer and softened his tone. "You know, if you've changed your mind about moving out, that's okay." 

Blair twisted the sweating bottle, his fingers sliding along the cool, slippery glass. "No. I haven't changed my mind. This is something I just have to do." 

"No, you don't. I told you before." 

"Jim, this isn't just about what people are saying behind our backs." 

Jim put his beer down on the coffee table and wiped his hands on his thighs. "Then what is it?" 

"It--look, it's not important." 

"Like hell it's not! C'mon, Sandburg. Having one closed-mouth asshole in this partnership is enough, don't you think?" 

Blair snorted. Oh, what the fuck. "It's just that I--I'd rather move out now--my decision, you know?--than wait for the day when you tell me to leave." 

"You've lost me, Chief." 

"Look." Blair brought his bottle up and touched it to the right side of his face and neck, finally braving his partner's stern visage. "Sooner or later, Brother James, you're gonna snap out of this weird, monk-like existence of yours and meet some incredible woman and want your privacy. Ms. Right in, Detective Sandburg out." 

"No." 

"What do you mean, 'no?' I can't stay here forever." 

"You could if you wanted to. I know you don't, but you're welcome to stay as long as you like. I won't ask you to leave." 

Blair jerked as a droplet of cold water ran down his throat and onto his chest, and put down his barely touched beer. "I hope you're not still feeling guilty about Alex." 

"No. That's not it. I just--I just don't want you to go." 

"Why not?" 

"I just don't." 

"How can you be so sure?" 

"I just am." 

"But--" Blair's face lit up. "Jim! If you can't explain--could this have something to do with a Sentinel's intrinsic need to have his Guide close at hand, 24-7? There are so many facets of the relationship that Burton never fully--" 

"I never said I didn't know _why_ I want you here." Jim pinched the bridge of his nose the way he always did when a headache was building behind his eyes. 

"Oh." Blair's ebullience vanished. "Then tell me." 

"No." 

"Tell me!" 

"Listen to me, Chief. There are some things you're better off not knowing, so if you value our friendship at all--" 

Blair reached out and grabbed Jim by the wrist. "What things? What could be so bad that I wouldn't want to be your friend any more?" 

"Just trust me on this one. Okay?" He tried to pull away. "Christ, you'd probably ask for a reassignment, too." 

"How could you event think that? I know you, Jim Ellison, and there's nothing you could do that would make me--" His grip increased. "Unless--Naomi." 

"What about her?" 

"Please don't tell me to want to sleep with her." 

Jim groaned. "For God's sake, Sandburg! I don't want to sleep with your mother. I want to sleep with you." 

He relaxed his hold on Jim. "You. Want to sleep with--me." 

"I guess so." 

"You guess so?" 

Jim sprang to his feet and moved to the balcony doors. "This isn't easy for me, Chief. All I know for sure is that I, uh, care about you. More than anyone or anything. And I want you to be with me for the rest of my life, so sleeping together must figure in there somewhere." 

If he hadn't been so stunned by Jim's revelation, Blair would've been insulted. 

"I've been fighting the way I really feel about you for a long time," Jim continued. "But I always knew you'd never, uh, love me as anything more than a brother. Anyway, that's my problem. Not yours. So here." He scooped up the cordless phone and tossed it to his gaping partner. "Get on with your life. Call Mrs. What's-her-name and tell her you'll take the apartment. Before someone beats you to it." 

Blair let the phone slip from his fingers as he rose, unsteadily, from the couch. "You. Want to sleep with--me." 

Jim sighed. "We've already established that, Sandburg." 

"And you're--oh, God." Blair approached him. Slowly. "I don't want to leave, Jim. Why don't you ask me why not?" 

"I'm sure you'll tell me anyway." 

"Damned right I will. Because I have--feelings--for you, too." 

"What kind of feelings?" 

Blair took Jim's hand and placed it against the left side of his chest, vaguely wondering what a bongo drum heartbeat would feel like to extra-sensitive fingers. "Deep feelings. From here." Yes, he could seriously get used to Jim's hands on him. "And they're _so_ not fraternal. Believe me." 

"No." 

"Yes, Jim. You're not the only one who's been afraid to say anything." 

"So you--?" 

"Yeah. I do." 

"But how long?" Jim's fingers tightened around Blair's. "How long will you feel this way? One night? Two years? Eight? No one's ever lasted longer than that." 

"I'm halfway there already," he assured, his voice on the verge of breaking. 

"Oh, God." Jim sank back down onto the couch, taking Blair with him. 

"What's wrong, Jim?" Blair used his free hand to stroke his partner's pale cheek. "I'm, like, totally committed to you. Isn't that what you want?" 

"Of course it is. But..." 

"But what?" 

"It's the sex." Jim leaned into Blair's touch. "The idea of having sex with a man--I don't know if I can do it. You know. The, uh, major stuff. And if I can't satisfy you in bed, how long will you stick around?" 

"Jim," Blair soothed in full Guide mode, fully aware that the other man's palm was still plastered across his heart. "I could never leave you. Not now. And I'll never ask you to do anything you don't want to do. As long as you know how to get yourself off--and I know you do--then I'll be fine." 

"But what if that's not enough?" 

"Let me ask you something." Blair took a deep, calming breath. "Are you attracted to me?" 

"I've always liked holding you. Touching you." 

"See? That's good. I've always liked that, too. So, uh, Jim? Have you ever wanted to kiss me? Could you handle that?" 

"Yeah. Sure." 

"Wanna try? Like, right now?" 

"Uh. Okay." 

But, on the first attempt, they tilted their heads in the same direction and bumped noses. 

"Let me." Blair took Jim's face between his big, square hands, positioned it correctly, and brought their mouths together. They kept their eyes open, watching their lips make contact, until Blair parted his slightly and licked at the corner of Jim's mouth. Then Jim's tongue touched his, and Jim's hands were in his hair, and Jim was pulling him into his lap. 

Blair moaned, and Jim broke the kiss. When he opened his eyes, the look on his face announced that he was startled to see where Blair had wound up. 

But the smaller man was perfectly content to stay where he was. "Holy shit. God, Jim. I think it's safe to say you're okay with kissing." 

"Was I--was it good?" 

"'Good?' Oh, man. The only way it could get any better would be to do it naked." 

"Okay." 

Silence filled the room while the two men regarded each other. 

"No way!" Blair said when he finally got the brain-to-mouth deal working again. "Really? When? Where?" 

"Yes way. Really. Now. Upstairs." 

Blair's eyes glazed over. "You mean, your bed? Wow. Oh, wow." 

"So, yes?" 

"Yes. Hot damn, yes!" 

With Jim squeezing his shoulder, Blair led the way up to Jim's room. Jim's warm, bright room, with dazzling afternoon sunlight streaming in through the skylight. Blair made straight for the far side of the bed and, keeping his back to Jim, undressed as quickly as possible and slipped under the covers. He looked over just in time to see Jim step out of his underwear before joining him in the middle of the mattress. 

It didn't take Blair long to decide that kissing with no clothes on was better--much, much better--than kissing with them on. And, from the sounds Jim was making, and the way his awesomely hard cock was poking into Blair's belly, he thought so, too. 

And just when Blair was convinced he was mere moments away from exploding all over the both of them, Jim withdrew his tongue from Blair's mouth and pulled back. 

"Can I look at you?" he asked. 

Jeez. For the first time in his life, Blair took no comfort in his irrefutable masculinity. Now that he'd cut his hair, there wasn't a damned thing even remotely feminine about him. Nothing that Jim had ever seen in his bed before. 

"Uh, sure," Blair told him, preparing himself for rejection. He cringed inwardly when Jim peeled back the sheet and blanket. The sight of Jim's nude body--so muscular and nearly hairless and absolutely fucking gorgeous--made him even more insecure. 

And the way Jim was, well, examining him. Shit. He supposed it was payback for all the times he'd treated the Sentinel like a goddamned lab rat. 

"Don't look too close, man," Blair chuckled nervously. "With your enhanced vision, you're gonna see every single flaw." And lose that delicious hard-on, he thought sadly. 

Jim lifted Blair's chin to meet his eyes. "All I see is a beautiful man." 

"Not like you, Jim. You're perfect." 

"Chief. _Blair_ ," Jim said softly. "I really like what I'm seeing here. Really. Can I touch you?" 

He was using his first name. He liked looking at him. And now he wanted to touch him. Oh, but life was good suddenly. "If you want." 

Boy, did Jim want. He ran his long, almost delicate fingers from Blair's shoulders to his chest and through the wiry hair, tracing the curves of Blair's pecs, then polishing Blair's nipples with the pads of his thumbs until they hardened. 

"Love your hands," Blair breathed. "Always have." 

Encouraged, Jim ventured lower, caressing Blair's abs and hip bones and upper thighs. 

The urge to press himself into Jim's hand was powerful, but Blair's will was stronger. As much as he was dying for his aching cock to be touched, there was no way in hell he was going to risk scaring Jim off. 

And just when he thought he should tell Jim that it was okay--that he really didn't have to do this right now, or ever--Jim trailed a finger from the base of Blair's erection to the crown. Then did it in reverse. 

And then something happened that gave Blair reason to question his eyesight, or sanity, or both: after running the tip of his index finger across Blair's cockhead, through the slick precum oozing from the slit, Jim brought it to his mouth and licked it. 

If _that_ wasn't almost enough to make Blair come, the look on Jim's face certainly was. There was pure animal lust in those ice-blue eyes, and Blair knew then and there that everything would be all right between them, sexually and otherwise. 

* * *

The next morning, Jim helped Blair move. 

It only took them a couple of hours to transfer most of Blair's stuff to the bedroom up the stairs. 

And Blair dismissed from his mind all thoughts of ever living on his own. 

* * *

Fini  
May 11, 2001 


End file.
